


One Nation Under Mutant

by GynoidJay



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Action/Adventure, Brotherhood of Mutants, Cold War, F/M, Hellfire Club, History, International, Mutants, Politics, Romance, Science Fiction, X-men - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-03 10:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4098151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GynoidJay/pseuds/GynoidJay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanne and Katarina have moved on from their pasts, one by the side of a promising president and the other climbing the ranks of Oxford University. But when their father begins to set WW3 in place, the sisters are thrown into the world of evolution and politics that will change the world forever. Will it throw them back to the past? Or will it propel them into the future? Posted on Fanfiction and Wattpad under same author.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Democratic Convention

Two days after accepting the candidacy, John met with his brother within the walls of the Biltmore Hotel. Apparently he and Johnson, a man he had chosen to be his Vice President, had a little altercation concerning the position itself. This would jeopardize his chance at the presidency. His father's dream for a Kennedy in the White House would be ruined because his kid-brother didn't know how to control his goddamn temper.

"Good morning, Evelyn." He nodded to his was leaving the suite whereas he was entering. She put on a smile.

"Good morning, Senator."

John's fine shoes tapped onto the carpet. Once stepping in, he made sure to shut the door. Robert, sitting at a desk, was hunched over paperwork. He looked up when he heard the voices.

"Congratulations."

"God dammit, Bobby!"

Tension thickened the air the brothers shared. John, annoyed. Robert, offended. He jumped up from the uncomfortable chair with a fury building in his cheeks.

"What was I supposed to do? He can't be the VP!"

"Like you can?" John derided. "He was second! He had the largest percentile after me!"

"That means shit!"

Johnson turning the men he influences against him was shit. Him spreading the news that Robert wanted the position himself and warned the party of the neo-Borgia reign soon to come was shit. He would perhaps be the opponent of not only his Republican counterpart, but a more desirable Democrat. That, apparently, was shit as well. The door opened again, and the brothers had to freeze their own altercation as Evelyn grabbed more files and papers before disappearing into the hotel.

"You don't get it, do you? He has to be my second." John's voice calmed but was still bitter.

Robert's cold blue eyes seemed to burn holes through the thick desk, avoiding looking at his brother lest he met the same fate. He, too, calmed himself and blinked several times before meeting John's gaze.

"Why?"

"It's none of your-"

"Why?" He demanded.

Once again, Evelyn had interrupted allowing both the men to collect themselves before portraying the Cold War physically. It gave John to think. His run for the oval office would be compromised. America, as he knew it, would be compromised. He wanted peace. As far as he knew, Nixon would face the reds head-on. All that would be the years to come if he wasn't elected thanks to his brother. He'd have to be extra vigilant in winning the vote if Johnson would ruin him.

"Bobby-"

"Don't 'Bobby' me." Robert left his desk in favor of standing in front of John's person; tall but with soft looks. Robert was the opposite as his eyes began to twist his brother's soul.

"You narrowly won the first ballot." He stiffly began. "It was me who got you the candidancy. Me! I got all the votes from the delegates who would make or break you! Just in the nick of time! I'm also apparently running your campaign..."

He went on, belittling his older brother revealing the vices John was guilty of as means of leverage. They didn't notice the door crack open, and Evelyn listening in.

"That's exactly why I have to make Johnson VP." John tonelessly spoke after Robert had his share of words.

The younger man's brows furrowed.

"Johnson got Director Hoover to dig up my secrets." He solemnly stated. "My affairs, my illnesses and conditions, Jackie and I's misfortune, everything."

Robert didn't have to carefully construct his reply.

"Blackmail...I guess fight fire with fire." He shrugged.

"And how do you suggest I do that?"

"Reveal his own affairs, his physical imperfections, his and Lady Bird's own misfortunes."Evelyn, still hidden, slipped out of the room as the brothers began to turn and wander the suite.

John shook his head.

"He is a saint; I, the sinner."

"Then what are you gonna do about him?"

Before he could speak, Robert interrupted with a finger pointed towards him. "He still can't be VP, especially with all your secrets."

John leaned back, groaning that his brother was still insistent. Did he not just hear what he had said?

"Then what? Convince him? Kill him?"

"That's not what-"

"Oh, let me phone my buddy Sinatra! He has ties with the mob!" He couldn't hold in his frustrations any longer. "Wait a minute, I think I know someone who runs the show in Chicago...that's right! Why don't I phone Giancana?!"

Robert was in awe. He constantly lost his temper but seeing John, so usually calm and agreeable, acting like him was worrying. The race hadn't even begun yet he fretted over it already. To call for murder...

"Listen Jack," He sighed, ", if you can't find a way, just be cautious."

He was cautious of his own brother, only agreeable after yelling and simple hostilities. He shook his head.

"That's what I was going to do in the first place."

No words exchanged after that point proved the resolve of the situation. Both John and Robert only had to look at each other to understand, like twins even with the eight-year gap between them. They were, in fact, the closest in their prestigious family.

"What about Styminton? Or Jackson?" Robert asked.

John would much prefer either one of the men to be at his side. Hell, Robert himself would be perfect if he was qualified and wasn't his brother. Yet that couldn't be. His presidency was already threatened and the election was four months away.

"They aren't dangerous."

"Stevenson?" He continued. "He's a wonderful speaker."

"That's the only good thing about him."

"Humphrey?"

"I don't even know the man."

Evelyn had entered the suite a third time, second in the brothers' minds. But her duties concerning the files and paperwork were temporarily hindered with a request.

"Senator Kennedy, the interviewer had arrived."

A wave of relief washed over the Massachusetts senator knowing he could talk for hours about himself. That's what he's been told anyway: the interview focused solely on the would-be president. Besides, his little glamour would make it an enjoyable time.

"You got one already?" His brother's nose crinkled.

John nodded.

"She was insistent."Robert's expression glowered.

Now he wore a face that looked down upon his elder brother, tight lipped and brows once again furrowed.

"She?" John rolled his eyes with a scoff in his throat.

"Yes Bobby, she."

With a nod to Robert, John left his brother to lose his temper again alone. Evelyn was kind enough to escort him to the small conference room in the hotel. She led the senator to the elevator and with a click of the first floor button, they descended down the many floors. He also guessed that she just wanted him to notice a couple of her buttons undone and the inviting look in her eyes. But John was unable to feel something for his beautiful secretary. He was far too busy and already threatened by past affairs to take the bait she left. The senator merely nodded with one of his stellar smiles. He felt Evelyn's disappointment, but she still wore a now awkward grin.

"What do you think of this, Evelyn?" He blurted.

"I'm sorry?"

"No, I apologize." He chuckled. "I mean about the presidency."

Her mind ran wild. He was actually noticing her, and in a much better sense than the sexual one. John felt that in her, too.

"Well, you're a fine man. Good and honest." She proclaimed.

"Now are you honest?"

"Why of course!" Evelyn exclaimed.

A loud ding alerted both the adults. The metal doors slid open revealing the bustling ground floor of the Biltmore Hotel.

"Now come along, Senator." Evelyn stepped out into the wild rush with John following behind.

Like two days ago for his acceptance speech, he was greeted by men and women who recognized him from that very moment. They wanted to hug him and shake his hand furiously, but John could only manage simple "Hellos." and "Thank yous." Evelyn kept a watchful eye ever so often peaking behind to see if John had been swallowed by the adoring crowd. Luckily, the man was still a man, breathing and pulsating.

"Evelyn, I know nothing of this." He confessed behind closed doors. "I only know that an interviewer was demanding."

His secretary gestured to him to keep walking down the isolated corridor, but she was able to be by his side than to rather lead him.

"Frankly, I'm just as confused. A woman claiming to be a reporter had an appointment I knew nothing about."

"Then why is she here?"

"I...don't know." She whispered. "I know I never talked to her or scheduled anything, but in my head, I did."

"I picked up the phone," Evelyn continued, "and all there was was silence. Then a woman told me that she would be meeting you, and I agreed, thinking it was already scheduled."

John recognized this but never revealed his knowledge to the poor woman wallowing in confusion. It never happened, yet it did for her.

"Do you have the name?" He carefully asked.

Evelyn nodded and John caught it out of the corner of his eye. She was sighing more and more the longer they remained on the topic.

"Janice Quinn, but I checked with everyone and she's a nobody."

The situation was becoming more peculiar the more Evelyn revealed. A nobody, some Janice woman, told his secretary that she would be interviewing him. Even stranger, Evelyn helplessly obeyed.

"Well I'll meet with her." John decided. "But I don't want you near her, you understand?"

"I'll go finish the paperwork." She agreed.

Evelyn then told him that the conference room was just down the hall and to his left before leaving for the suite once again. Now John was alone inching closer and closer to whoever this mysterious interviewer is.

"Ms. Quinn, I apologize for the wait but the crowds were demanding." John entered with a chuckle.

Glancing up, he saw only the woman seated at the vast table. Her long hair was pulled into a loose bun as her body was clothed mostly in black. She wore large, pointed sunglasses that hid the upper part of her face from the world. Admittedly, the senator felt a pang of nervousness strike his nerves. If her appearance worried him, he dreaded what words she would conceive.

"That's something we have in common." She stated.

Janice gestured to the lonely seat beside her. John couldn't tell if she was staring into his soul thanks to her glasses, but he followed her movement. Seated at the vast wooden table glossed to a flawless shine only sat the future president and the mysterious Janice.

"So you wish to interview me?" John inquired.

She was quick to answer with female swagger that surprised the man.

"It's really just talking. The nation and I wish to know the real John Kennedy." She waved her hand.

He nodded. Janice never stepped down from her high stance. She still wore her glasses, sat frigidly, barely moved. John glanced down to see no notepad or pen ready for this "talk".

"Er...?"

"My mind is my greatest tool." Janice noticed the confusion on his voice. "As is yours."

Again, a gesture signified that miscellaneous subjects were no longer acceptable as she sat just a bit straighter; not that she was already a ruler.

"So, senator, tell me about your foreign policy you plan to enact."

Policy? One sentence, she wants his personal life and the next, delving into his possible term as Commander-in-Chief? John grew even more puzzled.

"You said you wanted my personal life? The man behind the candidate?" He tried to put the pieces in place.

"I did, but I have to get this political nonsense out of the way." She sighed.

John thought for a moment. He hadn't exactly conjured up every little tidbit of his presidency. A good thing to ponder over in dreams but he was only voted his party's candidate two days earlier. He hadn't any time from dealing with Johnson and Robert and the press.

"Eisenhower's foreign policy is the problem with that." John explained. "He had a policy that was ridiculous, dull, overly reliant on brinksmanship and massive retaliation, and grossly egotistical."

"Define brinksmanship."

"It's where one pushes dangerous events to the brink of disaster in order to achieve the most advantageous outcome." He answered Janice's question before returning to his long explanation. "I worry that after his terms, the State Department would be unable to apply their new global vision. What I want and hope for is to control foreign policy through a young and energetic White House and National Security Council. People like me."

"Young, fresh-faced, clear minded, yes." Janice nodded. "Continue."

"Staffers would make their own approach within the foreign affairs administration. I think that the president and his secretaries had all but ceded the newly emerging states in Latin America, Asia, and Africa to the communists."

Chairman Mao, Korea, Vietnam, now Castro and that fascist wall. Poor John had all these to deal with during the aftermath of Eisenhower mobilizing the whole county for war. His future presidency, in translation. Janice looked at him, studying the relatively young man in silence. He was frustrated if his so-called handsome face allowed any negativity to appear on his skin. But there, she saw it. Yet it was something more.

"Do you advocate for war, Senator?" The woman simply asked.

Now he studied her, though he cannot read into her person. She was moving into something more than politics, that's for certain. Maybe this was all a ruse. Perhaps she wants to know if he'd be the red-fearing American or the steadfast patriot unfazed by his opposite's destructive nature? All philosophical and such...

"No," John stated. ", but politics has no room to be defenseless against communism."

Janice didn't like that. She didn't like that one bit. His comment, so second world war, so militant, so similar to the president he condemned moments ago, made Janice arch her brow to impossible heights.

"You could be the president that could spark the end of this Cold War, but I suppose that honor can go to another man."

The senator glanced down with stone eyes.

"Anyway, what's your domestic policy? Mostly concerning those who aren't white men."

Ah yes. He knew, like all the others, that she'd bring up the fight for equality.

"I support civil rights. What kind of question is that?"

"A frustrated one since many, many groups are still berated and murdered for something they cannot choose. Shall I tell you the reason why skin varies? And not because God created abominations." Janice's shoulders slumped and she lounged back into her chair. Behind her tinted shield she continued to read the senator like a book. She leaned in with a whisper aiding her answer.

"Melanin." She revealed. "It was evolutionary. People with dark skin have better at surviving in the sunlight because their skin protects them from the harmful sun rays. People with light skin were historically in places where they don't need protection from sunlight. Simple as that."

Research went into DNA, not skin cells. How on earth could Janice possibly know this?

"I...need an explanation for your own." Her lips barely curved upward into a smirk.

"Science. I was raised around genetics, not that god awful eugenics. I know my stuff."

"How could you possibly know such a thing?"

"I just said-"

"How could someone research such a thing?"

She now understood what the senator was demanding to know. Janice simply shrugged.

"My father was important. He made many important discoveries concerning genetics."

"So how come no one knows of it?"

"My father was a bad man." She plainly stated. "These findings are true or near true, but no one would believe such a horrid man."

John and Janice were silent. They read each other trying to understand the enigma that the other was. John has secrets, and not the documented ones Janice knows about. And for herself, John knew she was no reporter.

"Who are you exactly?"

Wonder flushed over him when she leaned forward even more and removed her sunglasses. Janice had sharp blue eyes that reminded him of his brother, but something seemed off about them.

"Janice Quinn, of course."

""How much do you know about me?"

"Why, everything. Gene Tierney, that Swedish socialite, Giancana's mistress who actually aborted your baby." She couldn't help but smile. "Speaking of babies, you and Jacqueline suffered a miscarriage and had a stillborn daughter."

"You were also injured in the war that still haunts your back severely. Oh, and I know about the disease you and your sister share."

The game was up. John understood Janice's true intentions. He couldn't help but laugh and wear an excited expression.

"Oh, you're good!" He pointed a finger. "Keep your sunglasses off; it's my turn."

The senator slouched over resting his elbows on his knees before initiating his powerful stare. He could truly read the woman now. But what he found was darker than his own secrets.

"I wouldn't dare say anything out loud." He quietly commented. "But I didn't know you were blind."

"Have you seen the memory?" Her newfound eagerness remained intact.

"Unfortunately."

"But," she reassured, "all is well. I have finally found you, John."

The sharpness in her masquerade vanished, washed away with the waters of enlightenment. Janice actually smiled, revealing that the mole just under the corner of her mouth disappeared into the folds in the same area. Her lips were gradually curved up and were tightly pressed together, but this was her truth rather than a forced display.

"I have searched for many like myself besides my parents." She marveled. "I assume your brother is the same?"

John approved of the words.

"Both abilities just like our father."

"I would like us to be friends." She blurted but then froze.

She hadn't meant to be so forthright. Janice had rehearsed this in her head: meet the future president, reveal their shared genes, ally with one another. It just so happened to come out more desperate than hopeful. Janice, unfortunately, hadn't had all the luck being around people her own kind, let alone basic contact with humans.

"It's alright." He reassured her in return.

"I would love being your friend. But I do have to know your real name."

"Then is yours true?"

"I was born John Fitzgerald and I sit here the same person." He declared.

"Then I am Hanne Schmidt." Janice, now open with her German identity and accent, revealed to the man, the next president, who already knew. In fact, he knew ever since she took off her sunglasses.


	2. 1962

Two Years Later, April 1962...  
No one knew her real name. All except four people knew her as Janice Quinn, presidential adviser. The beginning of her career started a rampage of sexist and insulting remarks about her skill to advise a known womanizer and a prude of an Attorney General. The so-called womanizer was a gifted man wanting to end the hostilities abroad and at home, from civil rights to the planned revelation of mutant-kind a year from now. The so-called prude only in power because of his brother shared the same gift, but was obviously more politically wise and advised the president as the "left"-hand. Janice Quinn to the world, it was truly Hanne Schmidt that was Kennedy's right-hand, be it Robert or John. She had inside contact with communist nations from Russia to Cuba; a shame turned into an asset thanks to her ambitious father. What else would she expect from a former-Nazi and current warmonger? But besides the point, she had to deliver a mixed-message fresh from Turkey.

"Come in!" John immediately answered her knocks.

Turning the knob, Hanne once-again entered the American splendor of the Oval Office. Even if the room had been free from Jackie's renovations of the White House, it was still beautiful be it plain. The only intricate furniture was John's desk yet it was still beautiful as a whole. Speaking of John, he was sitting at his desk hunching down to paperwork.  
"You shouldn't do that." Hanne warned. "Your back's bad enough."  
"Well hello to you, too." He chuckled.  
She merely rolled her eyes as she approached the wooden piece of art and slapped down a file under his nose.  
"Jupiter's ready to nuke if you so demand it."  
"Egh, nukes, Hanne?" The president complained.  
"Well, you wanted something close to Russia to intimidate them."

"Only because you heard rumors about a nuclear Cuba."

Again with her father, he was a very ambitious man. Once a man under the Reich, Hanne now understands he plays the new age game sending waves down different paths of dominoes. She hadn't seen him in years and yet they were both in the states. Different regions, but overall in the same place. Hanne hadn't been this close to the man since they were in Germany. She could even feel the energetic aura of his mutation.

"And how can we? The proposal's been blocked."

"I know."

Many in that particular council, even that idiotic Colonel working for her father, blocked the proposal even when Turkey agreed. They were scared of the consequences. They were a lot smarter than Hanne originally thought. But Hendry's true allegiance will soon overrule that.

"So your information is false?" John inquired. "You were wrong?"

That word associated with herself put a bad vibe into her head. Hanne was never wrong. Ever. She relayed whatever she picks up on as agreed by the both of them. And now he had the gall to accuse her of misinformation for an already shaky plan. She made sure her thoughts were loud and clear. The president shook his head.

"The council was like a hung jury, so I expect a second meeting to either decide or not." Hanne spoke. "I'm assuming you heard about Hendry, so what do you want me to do?"

"Keep an eye on him."

That was it? Just watch over the damn Colonel? Like that?

"I want you to find your father and it seems Hendry's your ticket."

"He was thinking about Vegas." She added. "Something about a club."

"Hence why I just gave you an order."

The president rose from his chair and stepped around his desk to meet with his trusted adviser. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, though she could only feel it. Hanne couldn't see him but John was still so kindly to give her a Kennedy smile.

"Follow Hendry, accompany him, question him, I don't care. What I want is confirmation from that terrorist."

Hanne's eyes squeezed shut behind her large sunglasses. She nodded in agreement.

"Yeah." She whispered. "And what do you want done to him?"

"To who?"

"The Colonel, of course."

John laughed, now putting both hands onto her shoulders.

"Nothing. He'll make a good mole."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"You don't know why he wants nukes in Turkey?"

"No ma'am. I don't even know if he's a Commie."

Hanne, now as Janice, walked with the Colonel to the jet that'd be taking both of them to Las Vegas. The man walked confidently as he always did. His mind, however, was suffering with the terrible case of "what if's".

"Do you even know the man's name?" She scoffed.

"There's an invitation at the hotel I got."

So no. She still didn't know her father's new alias, and his federal sleuth didn't even know the name of the man he worked for. Let alone his allegiance, but Hanne already knew the answer to that. Before they climbed onto the jet, Hendry stopped her. His aged face showed concern she already had the answer for. Folding his arms, his head craned down to remain faint from the watchful eyes around them.

"Am I gonna be arrested or..?" His tone was hush-hush.

Janice smiled. She patted a small hand on the Colonel's broad back, gesturing him to continue into the jet.

"No. In fact, the president finds your predicament to be an advantage."

"Kennedy?" Hendry was astonished.

"The one and only." She answered. "But you do have to remain loyal to us or we will kill you."

Her smile only grew brighter in public. Both herself internally and Hendry all together were in truth somber with the thought.

"That's going to be a challenge." He sighed.

Hanne froze. Her eyes began to burn through the mole and even he saw it through the tinted lenses when she looked at him. He flat out told her it would be a challenge to remain loyal to the country, to the cause! Even upon the threat of death he still chose those words.

"Maybe we'll find a better mole." Her fingers curled into fists. "I could tell the president that you're useless, after all."

"No," He surprisingly remained collected, "you don't understand. He has someone special."

The connotation screamed fear, confusion, amazement. Mutant.

"Then explain."

Both the Colonel and adviser boarded the jet. They took their seats across from each other. Colonel Hendry rose a few fingers and a whiskey was sent his way. Very telepathic of him, but then again, the help was trained to know signs of order. Madam Quinn, on the other hand, received a cool glass of water just by taking a seat: no words or gestures. When the help departed to their stations, Hendry leaned closer to Hanne.

"He's got a girl, apparently reads minds or whatever. I don't believe it but what I do know is folks in Vegas don't cross her."

"Continue."

"She used to be some mob boss' girl until he was murdered."

"Who did it?"

"The man we're flying to meet."

What did Hanne expect? Give the boss money to go back to Italy? Of course he'd be offed. Her father was a man of no prisoners. She moved past the telepath.

"So you seriously don't know his name?"

Hendry shook his head, picking up his glass and took small sips.

"Afraid not."

He tried to shrug it off as a minor issue. The man was truly an idiot. A fat, balding idiot who somehow as a high rank.

"No other aliases or anything?"

"No." He shook his head making Hanne shake her own. She sighed in disgust.

"Idiot." She glanced out the window.

Everything aboard jolted as the jet took off the airstrip. Hendry stared at the adviser unafected by the takeoff, a brow raised at her insult.

"She's also a diamond. Apparently."

Hanne heard him sip and turned her dead eyes to the Colonel. She tilted her head to the side though his mind yielded no further information. Now her own brows were raised.

"A diamond?"

"In the flesh."

Rain continued to hold Oxford forcefully. The droplets seemed to grow stronger the harder it pelted against the glass but Katarina was lucky to be indoors this day. She sat next to the flickering fire covered with another layer of warmth and book in hand. She, along with her sisters, were masters of language but felt superior over them. The work she read was familiar to her but foreign to the two, that she knew of anyway, but confidently believed she was the only one of the three who could understand mutation and genetics. Her father was a master, her boyfriend soon to become one, and Katarina only had to wait a year until it became official. Until then, she studied.

Katarina was well into the second volume when Charles and Raven returned to the flat, arguing as it has become the norm. Charles didn't understand the issues Raven had as she grew older; neither did Katarina, but she at least tried to put away her own mutation in order to be in Raven's blue skin. Once the front door shut, their argument ceased. Katarina stopped reading. Both of them stepped into the living area to greet her but when she glanced over, she say they were wearing forced smiles. Charles tried to hide his annoyance, Raven held back years worth of frustration.

"Both had too much?" She sighed, closing the book without saving her spot.

"Too much coke can really get to a girl." Raven sneered into her room.

"And you Charles?"

"I was only on my second before we left."

She didn't want telepathy; to hear all's thoughts and feel their memories come to life would be hell for her. She has admiration for Charles for being a stable man with such a power. Yet, he lied, kept things from her. Sometime's she wanted to know his secrets, other times she just wished to be included. Impenetrable physically, but her mind liked to be ironic and susceptible. Their emotions were getting to her, severely. She literally felt what Raven and Charles felt and it twisted her stomach, and she wasn't even an empath. They were annoyed, tired, but like always, hiding something. Yet this time, Raven wanted to tell her. That much Katarina knew.

"Why don't you both go to bed?" She asked, but Charles shook his head.

"Can't, love." He approached her. "I have to study."

"Your thesis is a month away."

"It has to be perfect." He smiled. "I want to walk out of the university as one of the greatest graduates."

Charles bent over the chair placing his lips on Katarina's icy forehead. The touch always shocked his nerves but over time became sort of a strange comforting thing. The woman he loved was cold, and no matter how many blankets she had or how large the fire raged, she would feel like ice. He realized he loved the ice only several months before.

"You're already one of the greatest future graduates." She looked up.

"Your words soothe me, but I am determined."

She and Charles smiled, once again feeling his overly warm lips on her skin. The mutant rose from her chair and turned to the other.

"Well then I'll go to bed, and you better join me at some point." She jabbed his chest.

Instantly, he grabbed her hand and like the suave romantic Charles is, he kissed the skin. He often gifted many kisses but it seemed to be at its peak when he's been drinking. Katarina couldn't complain not that she wanted to.

"If I'm not there after midnight, please wake up and drag me to bed."

"And if you get into my head?" She smirked.

Using her hand, he pulled himself closer and wrapped his arms around his beautiful statuette. He then traced lines on her soft skin.

"I'd suggest you become the lovely diamond you are and hit me."

"You're serious?" Katarina giggled.

"Love, I'm dead serious."

But Charles' smile betrayed his words and they both knew it.

"Sweet dreams, love."

"Sweet studying."

They both leaned in and a collision between fire and ice sent waves of warmth and coldness through their bodies, exciting the nerves which expected nothing out of the ordinary. They could honestly never tire of each other. If touch excited both mutants, they were well on their way to endure the coming decades together.

Ring!

Ring!

Ring!

A damn phone vibrated rather loudly throughout the flat, annoying Katarina into consciousness. She was sprawled all over the bed with no warm body to hinder her as much as she wished. Opening her eyes, her vision was blurred from both grogginess and darkness. There was no way awake enough to actually think about the layout of the bedroom, so she extended the arm she thought closest to the nightstand. She was too far. An exhausted groan escaped her throat. The only time Katarina thought was where the lamps were. Now with both arms towards the two lamps, she manipulated her mutation until light illuminated the bedroom. She still laid face down in her pillow for several seconds before finally getting up and checking the time.

2:30

She rolled her eyes. Katarina left the room to find the flat still bright with life although nothing stirred. She peaked into the study, only to find Charles and Raven sound asleep and free from the terrible ringing. It still rang furiously. Following the dreadful echoes, Katarina met the source in the living area and picked up the handset without a hesitation.

"Do you realize the time?" Her voice matched her skin. "Call back in the morning."

"Then I'll be asleep and we'll keep playing phonetag."

Hanne? Why on earth would she be calling at this hour, let alone in the first place? Katarina pulled the handset away and stared into the receivers.

"My words still stand." She pressed it against her face again.

"I just have simple questions."

"It can't wait?"

"No."

Government, Katarina rolled her eyes at the thought. Her sister only called for governmental business. She'd prefer to not talk to her all together but hated the president's part in their lives even more. Her sister may be blind to his looks, but Katarina believed that Hanne still fell for him. She's been told most women do.

"What is it then?"

"Were you with a guy named Lavecchia? Vinny Lavecchia? Vegas boss? Ring any bells?"

"I've only been with one man and he's sleeping in the study." Her voice remained chilled. "How does this have to do with your job?"

"Okay then..." Hanne avoided the question.

"Anything else to ask about?"

"Just one."

It was silent between the two. The drops were spikes against the fogged glass. Katarina had forgotten it was pouring, let alone more forceful storm than the hours before. She couldn't exactly call it a storm though when only rain and grey dominated the country. The whole of Great Britain was a mass of wetlands whether the ocean or rain causes it.

"Have you been with Dad recently?"

For the first time since she's mutated, Katarina generated her own heat. But it wasn't pleasant or comforting like everyone else. It was anger and fury. It was rage.

"How dare you ask such a quest-"

"I have a lead on him. His right-hand is a telepath and shapeshifter."

"Well I'm not a telepath."

"You certainly have the genes for it."

"You. Shut. Up." Her seething anger caused her breaths to become heavy. "You really aren't using your head, are you?"

"What do you-?"

"You didn't find me. You found Mom."

Their mother and Hanne were the same as to Katarina and their father. Unlike her sister, she wanted to tread carefully. Yet there was no other way to put it. She had found the cause of her torment just as she found her own.

"Why would she be with him?" Hanne croaked. "He wants her dead after what she did."

"You said it yourself; she's a telepath." Katarina sighed. "Look, I know you're not going to stop so just be careful. Play along with her mind tricks."

"She'll figure out I know everything!"

The younger pondered for a moment but nothing yielded any results. Their mother was powerful, perhaps even more than Charles. She would find out. There was no doubt about it.

"I suggest you train your mind then. Goodnight, Hanne."

Katarina slammed down her familial issues onto the telephone base before going back to bed without a thought. The only thought she had was turning all the lights off and knew it became a reality when she walked through the darkness. Hanne found their parents yet two others from their past remained missing. She could only think of what evils they're planning.


	3. Vegas in Hellfire

Eighteen years. Hanne hadn't seen her father in eighteen years since she was fourteen. And yet, they were both in the city limits of Las Vegas. Thirteen years. Hanne hadn't seen her mother in thirteen years since she was nineteen. And yet, her grudge still lived on all these years later. She had often thought of murder to be her act of revenge but as the years made her all the more wise, she realized something about her mother. If she wasn't a horrible woman, Hanne wouldn't be the mutant she was today. She had a strange mixture of hatred and respect for the woman. It made it all the more difficult to pull herself together. Her father was nothing. John only cared about the global consequences as did Hanne concerning her father. But her mother was an entirely different story. Hanne threatened Hendry with death if he ever betrayed the United States, but if her mother was really there, she just might go against her own threat.   
The phone rang again but she was still pulling herself together from the lovely talk with her sister and the jet lag. Still, she had an obligation to answer the phone.  
"What?"  
"Hello to you, too, Hanne."   
She sighed more with her throat than her breath. What the hell does he want?  
"Why are you calling, Bobby?"  
"Someone told me you were in Vegas."  
"Someone told me you were ill."  
"Well I can't deny that."  
"Then I can't deny it either."   
Both modestly laughed, but that was short lived when Robert became enamored with business.   
"You're not meeting with-?"  
"No." Hanne shook her head. " I'm meeting with my father."   
"Oh!" Robert laughed.  
She was a bit taken back with his response. A crusader against crime and laughed at the notion of meeting with a terrorist. The man doesn't have his priorities straight. Hanne found it amusing, though.   
"Heard the Hellfire Club's wild."  
"I heard they hire strippers to entertain big names."  
"Like?"  
"So far I've gotten three mob bosses, the Italian ambassador and the CEO of Lockheed. And Colonel Hendry."  
"The NATO guy?"  
"Yeah, but he's under our orders."   
"So when are you going in?"  
"I don't think I'll be able to." Hanne shook her head. "It'll be odd seeing the president's female adviser in a party for men."   
"So what, then?"  
"Probably hitch a ride with Hendry. Although, there's rumor that my father has a telepath with him."   
She purposely left out the part that the telepath was most likely her mother for her own sake. Yet even with the mere mention of another telepath, Robert was audibly excited. He was always eager to learn of others like them.   
"You think they'll help you then?"  
"Working for my father? No." Hanne chuckled.   
She heard the door open turning to see as a reflex she still hasn't shaken off. She could tell it was Colonel Hendry.

"Remind me how you see?" 

"I see brains and the brainwaves are like radar." Hanne simply stated. 

It was the truth but she already knew he wouldn't believe it. He was a clueless man, not knowing he's working under mutants whether it's Hanne's father or the president. She would have to tell Hendry if she was going to share a head with him. Then again, he can believe anything she wanted him to. 

"Anyway," He moved past the bogus answer, "time to go."

The adviser nodded and returned to her friend waiting patiently. 

"And so it begins."

"Just be safe. And watch out for the telepath." 

"Right." She affirmed. "Bye, Bobby."

She put the phone down before she could hear his departure and reached for her sunglasses. Her legs held up her body with no chance of falling, even in heels. Hendry still faced her and when he spoke, she saw the outline of his apparel. A suit. A tuxedo. 

"Awfully dressed up, aren't we?"

"You still seem to be wearing the same clothes." 

Hanne glanced down with an innocent grin. She'd sometimes forget she wasn't with her own kind in this case.

"If you expect me to be your date, it's not happening." Her arms crossed. 

The colonel wasn't pleased with her response. She could manage out his unimpressed features only sinking lower when she smirked. He didn't take her vision seriously, so obviously a man of his humor wouldn't find her words amusing. Now that Hanne thought, no man would like to be rejected. Still, she held her ground. 

"Then how are you getting in?"

"Through the back." She answered. "It'd be odd to see a fully clothed woman at a Hellfire party."

There was a pause. Hendry was trying to use his brain to come up with an answer. Hanne patiently waited. 

"Couldn't you just blend in with the girls?"

Is he serious? Hanne? The presidential adviser? Stripping down? Good god, that was absolutely a horrendous suggestion! Hanne's eyes bulged in a great white state of bewilderment. 

"You're an idiot, Colonel." She huffed. 

Hanne was off with a throaty sigh that rumbled through her entire body. Her swift movement almost made Hendry fall back on himself but his legs were just as sturdy as the adviser's. There was nothing left to do or say except to follow. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The strip was a glory of neon lights, gangs and strippers. Vegas, a sin city more decadent and immoral than cities thought to be worse. But no, Vegas had everything from spinning champagne to sparkly dames; that Hanne had been informed of anyway. Her father, her probable mother, another mutant that makes wind. From his hands. A red-skinned one with a devil's tail. She didn't get that information from Hendry though. Lots of girls walk around Vegas with strange memories concerning such things. It was a wonder that the media hadn't found out. The only thing on her mind was to get to the truth about this Hellfire Club. Moira MacTaggert's mind, however, looked through the binocular lenses and wondered who the blonde was. 

"Is that Colonel Hendry?" She first noticed the well-dressed man.  
"The NATO guy?"  
"Yeah. Er-Yes, it is." 

Levene threw his head back against the leather seat. Moira herself handed the binoculars to him, nudging when he didn't see. Peering through the lenses as well as his own personal ones, he saw what Moira saw. Her concern and confusion quickly became his own.  
"Because that's three mob bosses, the Italian ambassador and the CEO of Lockheed." He nodded. "Okay." 

She shook her head. What in the hell were these men doing here? The Italians was plausible, and Lockheed functioned in airspace technologies. But Hendry became the obstacle. The guy was NATO. He was a man who swore to contain and yet...

"They all can't be communists." Agent MacTaggert whispered. "This Hellfire Club's gotta be something else." 

Snatching the binoculars from Levene's hands, she looked for any sign of redemption or damnation. They've only heard rumors but rumors don't exist in the middle of a cold war. Other patrons mingled with them, all men of power. The only women she saw was the "entertainment" but one woman stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Someone got out of Hendry's car." Moira announced. 

"Pfft, probably some stripper." Levene took back the binoculars. 

Moira had to rely on her own vision but the sight still remained true. The woman was a bright blonde and did come from Hendry's car. That was it, though. She didn't talk to the patrons, greet them, nothing. She quickly left the scene and went around the building. 

"Russian companion?" Levene wondered aloud. 

"Companion in a dress suit?"

Levene sighed. She was rather well-dressed. Very professional for a woman in Vegas. But there were many types of business and something in Moira's gut told her they were both here for the same type. But how would the agent find out? She couldn't just waltz in.

"Hello, girls." Her partner purred.

Gazing across the street, Moira saw the "entertainment" arrive. They were scantly clad and sexed up as expected but Moira thought of something unexpected. Spontaneous and a quick-thinker, she removed her clothes.

""What are you doing?" Levene exclaimed. 

"Using some equipment the CIA didn't give me. Stay put."

She was in the last in the group. Moira the CIA agent paled against their glittery personas and lustful appearances. They'd only buy the "plain jane girl" for so long until she became a sore thumb. Prior to the future, she was just another fetish. 

" _Thank god for perverts_ ", she thought. 

Music played from the secret compartment of the casino. Loud cheers echoed throughout when the girls entered. When they descended down the steps and into the club, Moira finally saw a majority of the patrons. All powerful men from all sides of the world and business were mingling about. It gave her a bigger picture but not the idea. She wanted to call them communists yet they could easily be a part of an elite "country club". The agent didn't buy the thought, however. 

Across the room, she saw Hendry and an entirely different blonde disappear behind the curtains. It was crazy, but Moira had to look behind even if that means a blown cover. This place already had a secret compartment. The possibility of more was high; as was the possibility of men approaching her. 

"Hello, beautiful. How are you?" One man smirked.   
"Hey, baby. You want to find a quiet place?" Another actually touched her.   
"I am so sorry." She turned and put on a pouted expression. "I've been booked by Colonel Hendry."

" _That sounded so dumb......"_  
"Excuse me."

_"But it worked didn't it?"_

She kicked her heels a bit faster. That wasn't her thought. It wasn't anywhere near what her voice sounded like. Maybe all these men were getting to her? No matter. Moira shook off the strange occurrence and pulled the curtain back. Nothing. The Colonel and the different blonde were gone. And yet, this was where they originally were. The secret compartments made her a bit more hopeful. 

The curtains screeched against the rod and the agent was alone. It was a pretty good-looking booth: purple curtains all around, black booths, a black and white table set in a swirl. There was something in the middle, but that was probably a light. Moira slid in to think for a moment.

  
_"That's not a light._ " The voice echoed again. 

Moira looked around. No one was there but her. Not even behind all the curtains or anything. The place wasn't bugged as far as she knew, so what's with the voice?

" _I'm going crazy..."_  


_"I'll be, too, if you don't press the damn button."_

Moira was indeed losing her senses. They were in an age of advances. Maybe the guy she's going after put something in the air and now they're all high? Hell, anything could make sense right now. The one thing she didn't understand was that she listened to the voice. Was it God? The Devil? Some super-agent? Still, Moira put her hand on the top of the knob pushing down to only spin around. The curtain was gone. Where it should've been there was a club. Now there was only a study. It was surrounded by bookshelves with a desk off to Moira's right. Still, no Hendry or blonde. 

Agent MacTaggert stayed close to the wall of bookshelves being extra careful to not cause any noise. She never saw anyone but they could still be there. 

_"Check the desk, agent."_

Despite Moira questioning its existence, she listened. Tip-toeing to the desk, she found several files neatly arranged. She chose to search the one under her nose aligned right in the center of the desk. Looked pretty thick, too, and Moira only hoped that it had the documents needed to prove communist activity. Her fingers curled over to top's edges and with one slight bend she saw it all. Cyrillic. 

"Oh my god." She mouthed, curving her lips upward and jaw hanging. 

She freed a couple fingers and brought up papers one-by-one. Each one was typed in the Russian text. The stakeout had turned into something more productive for Moira; her ridiculous "disguise" and curious nose managed to uncover the truth. She was relieved that the guy, Shaw she remembered finally, was indeed a communist. Now the hard part was figuring out his cronies. 

_"There must be a list..."_

_"Pretty dangerous to have names lying around."_

Moira glanced up with an arched brow. Only for a moment, though. For some reason, she felt as if she could accept this voice or whatever it was. She began to sift through the desk.

_"He must have big names, at least. Letters, orders, something!"_

_"Burns them once he's done."_

_"Great..."_

There were supplies in the drawers. Behind her, Moira recalled there being a cabinet of sorts but turning around, she noticed a small detail that protected itself from her. 

_"Don't break the lock. You'll alert them."_

_"Them? Who's them?"_

A loud thud carried through the walls sending Moira almost to her knees. She remained hidden behind the desk with eyes barely over the wood and decor. Light shined through a crack, and she noticed the wall was no longer even. The agent was more cautious than ever thanks to her heels, lightly stepping over to the crack. 

_"Must be a door..."_

She awaited the strange voice that had been in contact for some time but it never surfaced. It was as if they were watching and Moira was the last to be included. Peeking behind the bookcase, she saw three-no-four people. There was Hendry on the floor, the probable cause for the thud and bookshelf, but the people standing over him unnerved Moira the most. There was the blonde Hendry was with earlier now even more spectacular up close. The man behind her wore a black tux with tanned skin and dark hair reaching his jaw. The other man, the one next to the blonde, he must be the one in charge. He was older, more experienced most likely, and Moira noticed he had on a velvet blazer. She couldn't tell if it was black or dark blue, but the fabric and his age, not to mention the other two standing at his side, told her that this was Shaw. Assuming, anyway. He turned towards the blonde. She sighed and in an instant, her delicate skin morphed into diamonds. Diamonds. Moira's eyes popped, and she could expect Hendry's mimicking hers. The three, however, continued as if nothing was out of place.

"Magnificent. Isn't she, Bob?" Shaw marveled at the woman. "Genetic mutation. The evolution of the human genome."

He looked quite proud of himself as if he caused this. Moira continued to spy into the secret lounge watching his proud grin wash away with concern. 

"Where's Azazel?" He looked at the two."We don't want the Colonel to be late."

His words made the diamond woman roll her eyes and pucker her lips. Moira heard her whistle, but it was no ordinary. Shrill, high-pitched, air somehow moving past the rocks to create one of the most unpleasant calls the agent's heard. But it was not just for pain. Little whisps of black smoke appeared and in the center was a red man with a goatee. And a devil's tail. Moira couldn't tear her eyes away; and she thought the random voice was maddening. He went over to Hendry and held out a red hand, nodding to him.  
"Comrade." 

Shaw took a step forward, not quite done with the colonel. 

"Missiles in Turkey." He reminded. "Send a very clear message."

Hendry hesitated but that didn't last long. When he touched the red man, both of them were gone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moira navigated through the hidden level of the casino. She couldn't very well take the same ride back so she had to improvise. The plain jane "stripper" went through the place like a maze, finding herself back in the same place or at a dead end. The place wasn't that hard to walk around, but the past moments kept the agent from being her best. A woman....made of diamonds......who can summon.......red Russians? It was unbelievable! No, impossible! Yet there they were being sparkly and red; different. The other two, Shaw and whoever the other man is, they must be different, too. How he marveled at the woman like it was his doing. He was proud of what caused her power as if he had one! 

"Oh god, oh god, this can't be happening." Moira whimpered. 

She stopped in the hall slouching towards a wall. She needed a breather, to get things figured out and set straight. Her own lips puckered quite like the blonde's but no chilling whistle came. Only heavy breaths in and out escaped. 

_"Agent MacTaggert."_

The voice! Finally, something normal entered Moira's thoughts!

"Oh god." 

  
_"Agent MacTaggert, you're going to continue down the hallway until the very end, then make a left."_ The voice instructed. _"Then you'll find a door to your left. Open it, take the stairs up one floor, continue, make a second right, and then you'll find doors to the back entrance."_  


"Y-you're helping me?"

_"I'd suggest you move before the mutants become aware."_

She took in one last breath before setting off, continuously telling herself "okay" for reassurance. She met the end of the hall and through the doors, found the entrance to the stairwell. Just like the voice instructed, Moira went up only one floor and managed to get through the hall counting every right exit until she got to two. She was met with wide, double-doors. Behind the glass was the strip. The agent practically pranced out of the Hellfire Club and greeted the night with shoulders lifted from its dreaded weights. 

  
_"Return to your vehicle and I'll meet you shortly."_ The voice entered her head again. 

No longer confined, she ran across the lot and the street to find Levene sitting on his ass sleeping. He would have a rude awakening. 

"Levene!" She cried, banging his windows.

The man jolted to his senses and saw the frantic and naked Moira move across the car. The door open and she practically fell in. 

"Moira! Wha-?"

She grabbed a coat from the back seat and snatched the phone off the mobile receiver, aggressively punching in the numbers. 

"McCone." 

"Sir! It's-it's Moira!'

"This better be important, MacTaggert."

Moira spilled the beans on everything they saw impressively in a single breath.

"Whoa, slow down. Are you smoking them funny cigarettes? People don't disappear."   
"Colonel Hendry was there!" The agent exclaimed. "He was there, McCone, in the Hellfire Club!"  
"Colonel Hendry?" The director said his disbelief. 

The line went silent for a moment, most likely McCone searching the room for Hendry. But Moira was greeted with news only adding to her insane night. 

Colonel Hendry is here." McCone voiced his displeasure. "So unless he magically traveled-listen to me, I suggest that you stop wasting my time."

There was a pause.

"I got bigger things to deal with right now, MacTaggert."

"Sir, I-" 

The director was true to his word and the line was now silent for good. He hung up on her!  
"God!" She threw the phone on the dash.  
"Have you lost your mind?!" Levene screamed.

They both sat back in their seats putting together their thoughts. Everything was crazy. Moira, especially, shut her eyes as Levene gathered himself.   
"So, now what?"

"I don't know." She shrugged.

"You don't know?" Levene condescendingly asked.

"Well, what do you want me to do? You heard everything!"

"Sounds like bullshit!" 

Moira practiced her breathing. She felt herself slipping; it was hard to restrain herself from beating Levene. But her eyes remained closed and he was happy to oblige to their quiet time. It didn't last very long. 

"Excuse me? Moira?" Someone tapped on her window. "Open your eyes."

She could see again and turning to her right, the same blonde woman she saw in the beginning tapped her window. She was wearing sunglasses which was a bit weird. But somehow, Moira knew this person. The woman stepped back as Moira opened up and climbed out of the car with Levene protesting in the back. 

"Levene, will you-?!"

"Go to the airport and get back to Virginia. Now." The woman growled. 

It was as if the man had a sudden change of heart. He was calmer, quieter, and actually listened. The woman shut the door and he was off without hesitation. 

"How did you...?" Moira was at a loss for words.

The woman merely smiled and tapped her head.

"You know one of my tricks; there's another. Now come along, Agent, and you should really put that coat on. We have plenty to discuss." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The time struck nine yet they continued to drive in the darkness well beyond Las Vegas. 

"You could've just flown back from there?" Moira pointed her thumb in the city's direction. 

The woman chuckled at her words.

"Yes, but like I said, we have much to discuss." 

Silence. Only the growl of the car entered their ears.

"Then what?"

The woman shrugged with her lips drooping down. She hadn't a clue, so she held out her hand.

"I guess an introduction's a start." She turned to Moira. " Hanne Schmidt, or you may know me as Janice Quinn." 

Her hand weakly shook the presidential adviser's. She couldn't believe it. What in god's name is Janice Quinn doing here? Hell, Janice Quinn isn't even real! The agent was soon going to have a headache especially after realizing this woman, someone who has the president's ear, could talk to and control minds. 

"You're serious?" Her voice grew grave.

"Oh I'm dead serious." Hanne nodded. "You know what else is serious? A NATO guy actually being a communist." 

Hendry.

"Damn, I can't believe that idiot actually listened to him. He was gonna be our mole but I can't believe he actually followed my fa-Shaw's command." 

"What do you mean he's a mole?" Moira cocked her head.

"He was working for Shaw anyway, but we decided to let him be a free man under the condition that he becomes a double agent."

We. Our. Those words. This different Hanne-Janice woman wasn't acting alone. She may enforce it but she certainly doesn't take full credit for it. 

"He's done for now, though."

"You're gonna imprison him?"

Hanne shook her head, eyes still on the black road. 

"Shaw's gonna kill him. Does it to anyone who's now useless." 

Hanne didn't feel so bad about it like Moira did. He did suggest that she strip down and be his date. That in itself was pathetic for a man of his rank. Still, she glanced over to Moira and in complete darkness, both externally and in her head, she could make out Moira's face being slammed with years all in one night. It might have been a shock Hanne hadn't realized. 

"So..." Hanne tried to get Moira's attention, but her thoughts were still in Vegas

"I need to learn about genetic mutation." She spat out. 

That certainly startled Hanne. This delicate typist given a chance to shine went on a mission that probably screwed up her head. She was being demanding! It amused Hanne the more she learned from Moira's mind. 

"Of course." She remained composed. "What can I tell you?" 

"From an expert."

"Excuse me? My father was-ugh, nevermind. And how do you know I'm not a geneticist?"

Moira looked over Hanne.

"I wouldn't think a political mind reader would have an interest in genes." 

That made Hanne smirk.

"I do, it's just I think paying for it's a bit much. I could refer you to my sister although she's a year away-no! I know the perfect man!"

"Enlighten me."

"My sister's boyfriend. He graduates next month and his thesis presentation is just the thing you're looking for."

Moira remained silent, not knowing what to say. She can already guess on what she'll have to do, but she doesn't want to pretend until the time draws near. She needed answers. 

"Why can't I go now?"

"Because, dear Moira, you just had possibly the most frightening night in your life and leaving the country almost immediately's kind of strange. Right?" 

It really didn't make any sense whatsoever but she didn't bring it up. The agent accepted her word. 

"I suppose." 

"Right, so I suggest be that awesome agent you are and I'll take you to Oxford myself. Lord knows Katarina needs to see some family." Hanne shook her head again. 

 


End file.
